


Dabble in Magics

by TheCobraOfHell



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Drabble Collection, Drunken Shenanigans, Foot Fetish, Humiliation, Masochism, Master/Pet, Multi, Painplay, Praise Kink, Public Humiliation, Tentacle Sex, Vampire Sex, Wine, Worms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCobraOfHell/pseuds/TheCobraOfHell
Summary: This is a compilation of oneshots for The Arcana. A good chunk will be ~nsfw~, so enjoy!





	1. Instead of Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of a deviation during your stay at Mazelinka's, not that you mind much. GenderNeutral reader! NSFW

“Alright- that’s enough you two.”

I can’t help the slight laugh despite that awkward air, pulling away from Julian with more than a little apprehension. It’s adorable to watch his expression change from flustered, to embarrassed, to casual within the span of a second or two. 

Mazelinka shares my humored expression with a sly grin, glancing at me to spare Julian just an ounce more embarrassment. “So I take it you’ll take the bed- or would you prefer the hole?” Her expression reads clearly that she already knows the answer, but it’s fun to play along. 

Of course I choose to sleep with him. 

The way he looks at me the moment she leaves, wagging brow and hooded glance, I know instantly that he’s playing up the suave persona. I counter it, raising a brow with equal intrigue. “You’ll be a gentleman huh? Or would you rather be a good boy?” I test him. 

Instantly, that air of suaveness leaves him. “I- a good boy?”

“Yeah- you said you’d be good. And no, it certainly wasn’t too much a moment ago…” My hand winds up, fingers threading into his hair and tugging hard until he gasps. “If anything-” I tug harder, making a weak moan tear in his throat. “It wasn’t enough…”

“Oh god.” His voice comes out in a desperate rumble, and it makes me want to hear more of him. I lower my head, giving kisses starting from the bottom of his sternum and following up the bared skin his shirt helps expose. All the while, my grip remains strong, keeping him still as my kisses turn to nibbles and then bites, lingering on the curve of his Adam’s apple. The idea of marking him with my mouth passes my mind and intrigues me more than I’d thought it would. Sure, his usual doctor’s coat would hide it- but that flimsy shirt of his would do nothing to shroud the bruises. 

I suck hard on one spot until he whimpers- and then I gnaw without relent. I know he likes the pain. 

It’s amazing how easy it is to mold him to my own desire. He’s almost weak to me, not even fighting as I pin his free arm down with my own. Hell, he invites my knee when I press it between his legs, my thigh providing just enough friction for him to thrust against. 

“Wow, Julian. You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” I pull away from his beautifully bruising throat, fulfilled by the way he whimpers and follows me with desperate eyes. The hand in his hair releases him, tracing his jaw and drifting along the tender flesh of his neck. “How much pain do you like, how much can you take? Or-” I take a grip on his throat, pressing my thigh hard against the erect muscle in his pants. Julian gasps immediately, cheeks blooming bright red and eyes blown wide. “Do you want to just be demolished?”

By the way he nods, mouthing the word ‘yes’, I can tell we’ll be doing something else instead of sleeping.


	2. A Messy Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go back to the library to try and dig up that memory again, trying to figure out the fine details of Asra and Julian's relationship. NSFW

That vision from so long ago had plagued you for days. It hadn’t answered many of your questions, your bewildering at what really happened between Asra and Julian, and that enough was making you curious. But the atmosphere of that vision was also what enticed you so intensely. 

You just had to know more. 

You traced the scrolls and books again, having made it much past a dozen times that you’ve done so. Hell, the bindings looked more worn just from you flipping through the pages. Perhaps being so fervent had made it difficult for those visions to come back? That was probably it. 

So, you pushed the scrolls away and pulled one of the bigger tomes closer to use as a makeshift pillow, just to close your eyes for a little bit. 

~

“I’ll take whatever I can get…”

The atmosphere changes, from once chilled and mysterious to warm and almost oppressive. And you’re stuck in it. You’re stuck in this warm, tight embrace, watching as Asra threads his fingers tight into Julian’s hair and tugs on it. 

Asra grins and even gives a soft chuckle, although gentle, you can catch the slightest hint of danger seeping through. Just where it had left off, your vision picks back up, and Asra leans down, tugging hard on Julian’s hair as he captures the doctor’s lips. 

It’s surprising at how willing Julian is to be used, easily pushed away after that smooch only to dive back in, mouthing at the loose knot of Asra’s pants. 

“Haha- I knew you were desperate, Ilya, but I didn’t think you were that desperate.” Asra gives a cheeky grin down at the bowed doctor, and Julian peers back up with teary, pitiful eyes. “Then again- I’m also not surprised by it.”

You’re shocked to hear a whine, like a begging dog, and even more shocked to hear it coming from the doctor who is pausing, nibbling just on the drawstring of your Master’s pants. In that moment, you can feel just how much desire is coursing through him, itching to break free, salivating and panting hard and heart pounding harshly in his rib cage. 

And Asra is almost as equally unraveled, or more unraveled than you had ever seen him. He doesn’t look it, sure, just with blushy cheeks and wide blown eyes, but you can feel it in the way his gaze  
slowly crawls over Julian’s expression. You can see it in the way his grip on Julian’s hair twitches and how his chest rises and falls in rapid, small breaths. 

He seems to wait for a moment, up until Julian gives another pitiful whine, and then mumbles heavily, “Go ahead.”

Julian bites down hard on the drawstring and tugs until the knot comes loose, palms traveling up surprisingly toned thighs. Asra shivers as he feels the blood from the doctor’s palm stain his skin, the warmth slowly dripping down his leg. The sensation felt strange, but was quickly overcome once Julian had dropped his jaw and took his cock in. 

Your stomach lurches, and you feel shivers tumble up and down your spine when Asra gives a carnal moan. His grip on Julian’s hair becomes tighter, pulling him hard against his groin. Julian sputters in return but doesn’t fight it, in fact, he invites more of it by gripping the magician’s thighs and sucking harder. You always believed that your Master had the talent of remaining in tact, but in one fell swoop, he seems to crumble. 

He chases his own pleasure with no regard to the doctor, keeping Julian’s head in place as he thrusts into his face. By the lack of gagging on Julian’s part, you can either guess he’s used to the abuse of his throat, or he just really fucking loves it. Or maybe it’s a bit of both. 

Asra actually yells, although muffled as he chews on his scarf, and takes Julian off guard as he cums down his throat. Although Julian loved the taste, he coughs and gags, spit and cum dripping from the corners of his trembling lips. He still looks impeccably flustered, droopy gaze and flushed cheeks. When he looks up at Asra, swelling with pride at how unraveled he made him, Asra just laughs back at him.

“God, you’re such a messy boy.”

~

When you wake up, shaken almost violently, you have a hard time realizing exactly what the fuck happened. Portia gives a sigh of relief, wiping her brow free of sweat from a long day. “Oh goodness, I thought you’d might have exhausted yourself- did you learn anything interesting?”

God, there’s spit on your chin. You wipe it away with a a weak nod, realizing how hot your body suddenly feels. “Uhm, yah. I did learn a few interesting things…”


	3. Then and Now - Nadia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it’s pretty well-know (or at least theorized? sorry if I’m wrong) that Asra and MC had a very fleshed out past together before MC lost their memories. What if this was the same for our other characters too? Genderneutral MC!

Nadia rapped at the door frame, ferociously but in its usual melody. In the short moment it took for the apprentice to open the door, she placed a tentative hand on her chest and tried to rest her raging heart and softened breath. She couldn’t believe she had run here at such an early hour, literally sprinted despite the layers of silk fabrics she wore. But this could wait no longer, she couldn’t go another night without telling them…

The moment that the magician opened the door, she was jumping onto them, hugging tight and not daring to let go as she announced, “I’ve figured it out!”

Those words seem to strike a chord with the apprentice as they immediately draw the countess in and shut the door behind her. 

As they sit in the back room, it swells with an excitement that neither of the two had felt in many weeks or even months. “First, please- read the cards for me. I need to know if it’s true, if it’s right. I know you’d sway them in my favor if you knew beforehand.”

They laugh back at her, chiding quietly, “And why would I do such a thing?”

“Because you love me,” Nadia’s answer is in the next moment, and the blush her reader acquires is all the confirmation she needs. 

The card she picks reveals a mystic, violet fox with blackened claws and fine red robes. “Tell me-” Nadia peers back up, eyes gleaming and lips parted in bated breath. “What does it mean?”

“The magician?” The apprentice coos, “You have a plan- one long in the making with years and years of planning. Now, more than ever, you should set it into motion. All loose ends have been gathered, there will not be a better chance any time soon…”

“That decides it.” The ferocity in the way she gets to her feet, almost toppling the table where her cards are perched, makes the apprentice jump slightly. Before they can even ask, she bounds to them, grabbing their cheeks and pressing fervent kisses along their puckered lips. “After the masquerade- we are running away to Prakra together-!”

The apprentice was blushing furiously once she lets them go, still so overwhelmed by kisses they should have gotten used to. “N-Nadia! That is- this is an insane plan! What about Lucio…”

“You know as well as I that he did not marry me for love,” the Countess murmurs bitterly. The emotion leaves her just as quickly as it came once her attention is drawn back to her better half. “And I know it’s insane, one of the most insane ideas I’ve had in years, but that’s why I trust it so. And I trust you. And I- I cannot see a life where you aren’t by my side. Will you? Will you run away with me? Make a life with me…”

Oh god- she hadn’t felt so nervous in years, not since first leaving her old home and not knowing what would happen. Again, now, she was similarly found. She was leaving this home (if you could even   
call it that), she didn’t know what would happen. But they were with her, and staring up at her with curious, bewildering eyes as they nibbled their bottom lip. 

They gave a whisper of a yes, reaching out for Nadia once more, pulling gently on the folds of fabric from her scarf until she falls onto the bed with them, intending to seal their pact throughout the night. 

~

The Countess knocked furiously, but in a strangely familiar melody. Since the moment of her first nightmare, she knew that this was an ailment different from what any doctor could solve. 

She had heard the whispers, that of the apprentice of the card reader Asra, one that would quickly surpass him in ability. Out of all people, they were the one she could trust. “Sorry for this late hour-” was her quick entry murmur, stepping in once the door was opened for her. “But I will not stand another sleepless night…”

Their surprise was evident, staring at the her with curious, bewildered eyes and chewing their lip, no doubt wondering why the Countess would be here at such a late hour. For some reason- the sight is familiar. It’s as if she is reliving an old dream. 

They nod, weakly murmuring, “You came to the right place,” no doubt thinking the exact same thing. Like an old dream…


	4. Nothing Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC's most recent delve into Lucio's chambers, along with Nadia, ended differently than she'd expected. This is a request from my tumblr by an anonymous user! If you want to see a prompt in particular, comment on this story or send a message to my tumblr at tcohs-messenger! With a Fem!MC

No- no the headaches, again? Nadia pressed a hand tight against her temple and drew a hiss past her teeth. With her other hand, she grabbed a hold of the apprentice’s robe, almost using her as a crutch.

“O-oh… oh no…” Nadia grabbed harder, stopping dead in her tracks and thus pulling the magician back, hard, making the poor girl stumble.

“Nadia?! Are you alright?” She spoke back in a concerned whisper, cradling the Countess’ cheek in her palm. She leaned in closer, until their foreheads touched, giving in gentle coos, “It’s okay, you’re alright. Hold on. You can hold on for a bit longer…”

But she couldn’t- no- her head was ringing loud and pounding, almost scorching from the back of her eyes to the base of her neck. It felt like someone was hammering into her skull, hoping to crack it, and- honestly- she wouldn’t mind it at this point. It would be a relief after all the pain.

The apprentice continued to hold Nadia despite her lack of response and moving, although worry continued to rise higher and higher in her. Suddenly, she perked up, as though hearing something. The apprentice looked around in concern, glancing around in the darkness of the corridor. They weren’t safe here, not yet.

Before she could try beckoning Nadia to move, a voice spoke out.

 _Nadi…_ No, not him again. She couldn’t bare it. _Come home to me- I’ll end your suffering…_

“No.” The Countess perked up slightly, teary eyed and trembling, warm trickles of tears trailing down her cheeks as she stared at the apprentice. “She’s not going with you. She deserves her freedom from you.”

Nadia can’t see where the voice is coming from, merely glancing out into the darkness.

 _You seem so sure of that- but I deserve a break from this loneliness too. My own suffering…_ A pause in the voice, filled with thick silence, makes Nadia shiver and her head pound harder. _Should I dare ask- would you ease it instead?_

What? What did he say? “Dear…”

“Yes. I will.” The apprentice answers firmly, holding her head high- she looks powerful even in the face of death. “I would do so any day, and I will do it now. You let her go…”

The pause that follows is thinner, like that of contemplation. _I knew you were an interesting one. I will do as you request- now come._

Nadia can feel her hands being pulled away, although heartbreaking, the movement is gentle and slow. She couldn’t see, vision clouded in tears and blackened vision from her migraines. “M- my dearest- M… where, what did you do- why did you say that- what are you doing…”

The Countess can feel her cheeks being held, thumbs pressing circles just under her eyes to capture the tears there. “Shh, shh. It’s okay- it’s alright. You can hold on- just a bit longer, you’ll be fine.” The whisper is so sweet and familiar, for a moment it calms her and eases that migraine.

It comes back in the next moment when those hands leave her. “N-no. No- MC… MC… where are you?! Where-? MC?!” She hears the distant sound of feet against tile, but only for a moment until her weeps are all that’s left.

Then, in one swoop of a breath, the pain is gone, not even the sensitivity to sound is there. Nadia blinks, rubbing her eyes free of the gathered moisture, and then she looks around in fear. She was alone in those dark, dusty halls. She couldn’t hear a thing, neither goat whisper nor gentle breath. It was like nothing had even happened.


	5. Then and Now - Julian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it’s pretty well-know (or at least theorized? sorry if I’m wrong) that Asra and MC had a very fleshed out past together before MC lost their memories. What if this was the same for our other characters too? Genderneutral MC!

Julian was used to the lack of sleep by now- not that it’s after effects didn’t tend to hurt. If he were honest, he was almost always dizzy late at night and feeling the slight ebbs of headaches as dawn would come. He remembered it being so much more worse out in the field, not knowing when they’d be attacked, not knowing when soldiers would succumb to their injuries. That in itself killed the desire for sleep- but he was also a doctor. He had to help. 

Of course, now, things were different- but he could still feel those sleepless nights more than ever. 

He flipped through the pages over and over again, trying to compare figure after figure. In the trawls of the library, with only the candle for light, time didn’t seem to exist now. How long had he been awake…?

His senses must have been fried, or maybe he just wasn’t a hyper-aware person. Either way, when hands were set on his shoulders, he jumped out of his skin and jabbed his knees into the desk, toppling over haphazardly stacked scrolls and books. 

“Whoa~ Chill out Doctor Jules otherwise we’ll have another man in the palace to tend to-!”

Rubbing his eyes, Julian breaks out a grin and shakes his head. After being helped with stacking the books back where they should be, he looked at MC with a tired but smug grin.  
“Ahh wouldn’t that be nice? Bedside treatment just like the Count has?” He sits back, albeit stiffly, in his desk chair. MC followed suit, pulling a stool nearby. “Although, I don’t think I’d let just any caretaker suit me, I’m just a little bit more picky…”

MC grins back at him, almost smirking, the glint in their eye makes a telltale shiver run up the doctor’s spine. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Doctor Jules.”

He’s silent in return, dragging a hand up his chest to pull at his collar, and he only gets more flustered when he feels his own warmth in his cheeks. Instead of responding, he sighs and looks back at the anatomy book, flipping through the pages once more. 

MC’s grin falters and then falls completely as they look over the book as well. “You should get some rest, Julian-” They suggest softly, setting one of their hands on his shoulder. Just that touch alone reveals how tense he is. “You’ve been at it for three days now…”

“God has it been that long?” Julian lifts his gaze, peering at MC through the candlelight. With their nod, he shakes his head and rubs his drying eyes again. “It felt like a long time but… not that long.”

“Time stands still here- when you’re surrounded by books.” MC explains quietly, looking over the several shelves and papers. Looking back at Julian, they suggest again, “Get a little sleep, a few hours- you need to take care of yourself…”

They look so determined, even sound like it, and Julian can’t bare to fight them on the issue anymore. “Mm, a few hours yes- thank you. Quite the caretaker you are!”

MC grins and laughs again, helping to ease the tensity of the library and its knowledge. “I suppose you aren’t too picky then!”

“Only for you, MC.”  
-

Julian couldn’t quite place the strangeness of the situation. 

Once the Countess had departed, he slipped in with barely a creak in the floorboards. He could’ve sworn he’d find Asra here- but instead found his apprentice. Sure, he had heard of them, word traveled fast- even to a fugitive. 

But they looked strangely familiar for some reason. 

And being here, taking bated steps closer- _sneaking_ up on them- it felt like their positions were switched for some reason. 

Then the way they gasped, shocked and somewhat reveling, “Doctor Jules-!”

He knew this was something new yet familiar all in one.


	6. Then and Now - Asra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it’s pretty well-know (or at least theorized? sorry if I’m wrong) that Asra and MC had a very fleshed out past together before MC lost their memories. Here’s a little ficlet of what I’d think it’d be like, at least a moment of it. With a Genderneutral MC!

“Hey-” Asra hears the coo of their voice the moment the door latches shut. He immediately feels Faust slither under his coat, escaping through the arm hole and making her way towards the other mage. 

“Where were you?” 

Asra starts shedding his outer wear as he answers, “To the market– ahh I got caught up though. I had remembered ingredients I needed and…” He turns suddenly, seeing the other staring up at him from their slouching over the counter. He couldn’t help a small laugh at the way they peered up at him with puppy eyes. “I probably should have waited until you woke up, huh?”

They give a small nod, still feigning sadness as Faust began her exploration, slithering over shoulders and then under arms. 

Asra steps closer, extending a hand. “You should go back to sleep- it’s still early.”

“Mm…” They sigh and get up, taking his hand. “You’re coming to bed too, right?”

“Of course.” Asra smiles, leaning closer to press a kiss to their forehead. “And I’ll stay sleeping this time.”

He remembered such a long time ago when his favorite place was the open horizon. It was expansive, unending, dream-like, and it didn’t feel completely real. 

That changed recently. Now, he would willingly stay in bed any day as long as they were next to him. There was something magical to them, comforting and healing after an exhausting day of readings and spells. He could be traveling for weeks (which, why would he even do? this was speculation on his part), and just a moment in their arms would be enough to feel full again. 

“You’re already falling asleep.” Asra observes just a few seconds after they land into a nest of pillows and blankets. They nod, murmuring a hushed ‘sorry’ and giving a tired smile. Asra smiles back, nestling under their chin and pressing into their chest. “It’s okay, sleep.”

Just that suggestion is enough to put them out once more. Their calm breathing lulls him slowly to drowsiness, and he snuggles closer, hearing the steady patter of their heart reverberating through them. They don’t even have to try to be so stunning and so awe-inspiring, and that alone amazes him. 

He couldn’t remember a time he felt so alive. 

-

“I’ll miss you…”

As they slip into the back room, fiddling with the deck, Asra can feel the putrid mix of desire and trepidation. The way they flip cards, fingers smooth and nimble, makes his chest ache. The way they warn him, give advice of what to do or where to go- it makes him feel empty. 

“Please, take care of yourself,” are the only words he can summon to them as a parting plea. After so much time, it’s still instinct to farewell with… _I love you._

“Until we meet again…”

He finds the sight of the horizon to be almost frightening. It was large, it never ended, it couldn’t be real- could it?

Asra sighed and pulled his scarf tighter. He couldn’t remember a time where he felt so lost.


	7. A Reason to Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, Julian had a reason to leave other than being hellbent on his own suffering. With a Gender-Neutral Fan Apprentice!

A part of Julian always knew he could never have them. He had never deserved it, and his life was filled with misfortune. He would only make their life more difficult. That, coupled with the bounty on his head and a few other– circumstances had brought them to this exact moment. 

“I’m sorry- no matter how brief the time, I cherished being by your side…” Before they could even reach for him, he spun on his feet and was marching down the street. His chest was tight with the ache in his heart and weak breath; heartbroken and something else. Julian knew that this was for the best, he was positive. He would only ruin things further for them. He would bring them down to his own level, on the run, not knowing what to do, and…

He lingered by the window of Mazelinka’s home, able to smell the strong aroma of one of her stews from the street. Her home was lit dimly by the fireplace and a few candles- it must be warm in there. Out of all the times in his life, this might have trumped every other time he so deeply desired her soup and fireplace. Just being out here was fulfilling in itself, but he could imagine laying in bed again, eating softened vegetables and melted beef in thick broth whilst she chastised him for such unwise actions. It was enough to draw a smile to his face. 

But, he couldn’t. He was doing the same to her as he was to them- he was dragging her down. 

With another forlorn stare, he continued down towards the darker parts of town. There would be fewer guards here as well as fewer homes or shops to be opened in the morning. This was where the homeless most often found themselves, and that included him now. It was for the best, it really was. His life was filled with misfortune and he had a bounty on his head and…

Some alleyways already had the sleeping bodies of those too unfortunate to have a home to be in. He skipped these ones until he found a tighter alley, abandoned of most people. There, he collapsed onto cobblestone, drawing his coat tighter around himself. Although a rather chilly night, he shouldn’t have felt this cold, he shouldn’t have felt this weak. But having a broken heart did that to you. That and…

Julian coughed suddenly and shoved his mouth into the crook of his arm. His chest and throat constricted painfully the more he coughed, the entire ordeal lasting for nearly a minute before he finally settled. Pulling away left his sleeve and mouth a sheen of red along with a weakness that prevented him from cleaning the fluid away. Yes, this was for the best, they should have never met him. His life was filled with misfortune, he’d have made their life difficult-

and he would have gotten them sick too.


	8. Drunken Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and your Fan Apprentice go out for drinks and, despite good self-control, end up getting plastered. Drunk shenanigans ensue. With a genderneutral Fan Apprentice! (This was just an excuse to write something self-indulgent after a sad day a while back.)

Julian was known as a man that was able to handle his liquor. He could last a whole night over casual drinks, but something about his dear magician made the time flow as quick as a creek. Into the tender hours of near morn, the duo had downed more than a few bottles and were quickly giggling over some scrawlings in the table they sat at. Swears along with lewd jokes littered the table, and whilst the magician traced over one and sounded out the words, Julian shuffled in his spot and dug out a small dagger. 

 

At the sight of it, they could only gasp, “Ilya! You brought a weapon- what are you doing?!” Although they tried to harshly whisper their voice had been near yelling instead, drawing attention of a few other patrons and even the bar tender. 

The doctor pressed a finger to their lips with a weak ‘shh’ before jabbing the tip of the dagger into the wood. “I’m making art hush… hush… just wait.” While the magician laughed, and quickly covered their mouth as nausea started twisting in their stomach, Julian continued to etch– something into the table. After a few long moments of struggling, Julian tugged them close and pointed at the wood. “What do ya think darling~?”

 

“Wow~” The apprentice squinted and stared at it hard, the carving resembling a heart with the shaky scribblings of JD and their initials. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“-Hey, lovebirds. Time to pack it up and go home.” 

 

The magician fumbled with grabbing Julian’s hand as they left the Rowdy Ravens. The two gave weak stumbles along the cobblestone, punctuating the silence of midnight with hushed, sing-song echoes. Despite shakiness and the nausea of a night’s partying, they seemed in good spirits as they made their way back to the shop. 

 

Although pleasingly drunken, the magician could feel the tight hold that the doctor had on their hip. The way he steps makes the two of them sway back and forth on the narrow path, almost making them tumble into one of the ravines. 

Through pure luck, they had made it back to the shop and stumbled inside. The magician tugged Julian along despite his protests as he tried to lay on the entry carpet, pulling him deeper into the shop and up to their nest of blankets and pillows.

 

“Sleepy…” Julian mumbles to them weakly before wiggling from their grip and toppling into the nest. They shake their head with an intrigued grin and start pulling off their coat. “Mmm no just- lay down. Tired.”

 

“Yeah yeah- hold on…” They kick off their shoes and tug their coat off before plopping alongside him, sighing deeply at the familiar scent it holds. They wonder, briefly, if Asra had been home at all recently- and what he might say if they saw them in this situation. But, feeling Julian’s arm wind around their waist and pull them tight against his chest make the thought go away in an instant. 

 

“Hey…” His voice is much less slurred, heavy with drowsiness. They look up at him lazily and are caught in his deepened glance. “I love you- so so much…”

 

They peer back at him wide eyed, cheeks darkened from the booze as well as his confession. They draw their bottom lip between their teeth, pausing before mumbling back, “I love you too.”

 

Julian gives a pleased and cheeky grin, his grip on them tightening a he closes his eyes and starts dozing off. They wondered to themselves if Julian actually meant it or not- or at least meant to say it right in this moment. It had to be true in regards to the way he treated them. Maybe, in the morning, they’d ask him to make sure. For now, they slept.


	9. What I Love About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can’t help themselves as they take a moment to think about how much they love him. Julian, of course, begs to differ. GenderNeutral!Apprentice.

They chuckle softly in response to Julian’s desperate, pleading whine. After pulling away from their tongue-engulfing kiss, they just have to take a moment to look at him. Perched over his hips, he’s shirtless with belt undone but pants still intact. His red curls are splayed against the pillow beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches up from his lost breaths. His expression is wild, overrun with lust, eyes blown wide, lips reddened from rigorous kisses, forehead beaded with sweat, and a blush coating his cheeks and throat. 

Their pause lingers too long, and Julian’s attention becomes sharper with the extended time. He peers back up at them, lips pulling into a smirk. “Hah- what are you thinking about up there? Your next actions? Judging by the desperate way you bit my tongue just a second ago– you seem a little feistier than usual…”

Perhaps they were feisty, maybe a little more than usual. But taking this moment, just to look him over, was enough to have their mind go blank. He looks… 

“I was thinking about you,” they answer back softly, shifting a bit in their straddling position. 

Julian’s grin widens, and he uses his elbows to prop himself up. “I’d figured that much- what about me though?”

They give a soft shrug, averting their gaze slightly before answering, “How beautiful you look.”

Suddenly, they can feel his body stiffen and his chest stop to catch his breath. He looks up at them wide eyed then, his cheeks turning rosier than before. “I- oh- uhm- beautiful?” That once suave voice had died into a shy peep, asking for clarification.

They nod. “Of course, beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.” They bring their hands to his face, cradling him gently. Their thumbs trace his cheekbones, palms holding his jaw in a sure grip. “You’ve got beautiful eyes; they remind me of obsidian shards…”

Julian swallows, his gaze faltering and falling towards his hand that was fisting the sheets. “I- wouldn’t say they’re beautiful. Obsidian’s a volcanic glass? I don’t think that is an accurate… uhm, comparison.”

They shake their head, hands moving fully to his jaw and thumbs circling his lips. “Your lips are always so soft, and every time you smile it fills me with joy. Your smile itself could drag me out of any sad storm…”

Julian exhales shakily, and if they looked closely enough- his eyes looked watery. “They- my lips are… kind of thin. And you’re usually not sad anyway I…”

“I love your hair too.” Their hands burrow into his thick locks, fingers tangling into the red clumps and slowly, gently trailing through, as though petting him. “I don’t know how you manage to keep it so soft and so vibrantly red- you know what it reminds me of?”

“N-no…”

“Embers and warm coals after a fire.”

Julian actually whines and tries to pull out of their grip, although he doesn’t try too hard. “It gets frizzy when it’s humid-”

“Ilya.” He shuts up the moment they murmur that name, allows them to cradle his cheeks and hold him close. “It sounds like you’re just making excuses- made up reasons why I shouldn’t love you, why you aren’t beautiful… why is that?”

He gulps, and although he feels the greatest urge to look away- he doesn’t. But shame coats his expression. Those obsidian-like eyes are even more watery now, and his soft lips are quivering. “Because I don’t deserve it.”

“Hush.” Their command is barely that, more like they hope he remembers what they say. “You deserve _everything_.”

Julian’s chest heaves with a sob, and tears finally fall down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around them in an embrace so tight that it makes it hard to breathe. For a moment, they just hug, and his breathing slowly grows soft once more. They part, but not without lingering nuzzles and pecks. 

“Uhm-” Julian swallows, this time more nervous than in denial, and his blush is back, fervent as ever. “Would you tell me again- what it is you love about me?” He has the cutest expression then, chewing on his bottom lip and giving a doe-eyed glance up to them. 

They nod. “Always, as many times as you’d like.”


	10. Get Used To It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Asra and his apprentice had to get used to the cuddling at some point. Thankfully, they both love it- so the transition went smoothly. Featuring my apprentice, Weston!

“Hey- Asra… hey…" 

The magician gives an exasperated sigh, letting his arms droop and a pile of mud bubble just beneath his feet. With defeat, he tries his hardest not to look back at his teacher. He wanted to make him proud dammit- and what was this? A fourth attempt with nothing but damp dirt to show for it. 

His lack of a response doesn’t go unnoticed, and, although he tried to ignore the other man, he couldn’t completely ignore the arms that wound around his waist in a loose hold. Weston rests his chin on Asra’s shoulders, observing that the other had been paying such fervent attention to. 

After a pause, Asra gave a saddened sigh. "It’s mud, it’s always mud…”

Weston gives a small nod, his hands moving from the other’s hips to place them on top of his own. “It’s okay, no one gets it on their first try.”

“It’s my fourth." 

Asra tries to interject, but Weston resumes his praise. "I can feel your energy- it’s very strong, pure- you just have trouble connecting it to the outside world. It all has to do with your imagination.” He squeezes the other’s hands before removing himself, rounding the other so they’re facing each other. “But overworking yourself does not help either. You might have powerful energy- but even that can’t ease an exhausted mind. You should rest.”

He’s right, and Asra knows it. A suggestive tug on his arm instantly drags him from his stupor, and Asra trudges behind the other magician. Weston continues to hold his hand as they enter the threshold of their small, desert abode. Their fingers thread together, and- for some reason- that’s enough to make Asra’s cheeks give a vibrant, rosy hue. So, when they disconnect just before their shared bed, he obviously feels instantly lost. 

Weston plopped onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh, burying his face into folded arms and swinging his feet back and forth. When he doesn’t feel the bed sink with extra weight, he peers back up to where Asra is standing, looking dumbfounded. “No need to be so bashful- lay next to me, please?” He extends a hand, effortlessly beckoning his apprentice closer. When Asra takes a hold of his hand, an idea enters his mind, and Weston gives the smallest of smirks before pulling Asra down with him. Weston’s arms wrapped around his apprentice once more, pulling him into his chest with a surprised gasp. “Mmm, yeah- this is a lot better…”

Asra blinks once, twice, several times as he tries to catch up with what had just happened. He holds his breath, the only sound he registers being the gentle beating of Weston’s heart and soft breaths he gives as he dozes off. 

Eventually, he lets the breath go and feels his shoulders relax. The even breaths Weston takes along with his sleeping expression makes it easy for Asra to relax along with him. For their first time cuddling- it actually seemed to work out well. Asra had never really been a cuddly person, at least for the most part, but Weston seemed to change that. Asra would just have to get used to cuddling then, and he was alright with that. Hell- he loved it. 

-  
“No need to be bashful, Weston.” The moment Asra suggested they just slept next to each other, Weston had immediately clammed up with reddened cheeks. He tried to excuse himself, with something about how he wasn’t that tired or that he’d take a nap later, but Asra would have none of it. “Just lay next to me, please?" 

He should’ve been more careful. Nostalgia played him like a fiddle, pushing him to that phrase once uttered years ago. Asra almost swears he sees recognition in his apprentice’s gaze- but that goes away in favor of shyness once more. A smile dances across Asra’s features as he extends a hand, and just as Weston grabs it, he tugs him to plopping down beside him with an accompanying yelp of surprise. 

Weston stiffens like a log, holding a breath as Asra hugs him tight. Asra melts even further, burying his nose into dark locks whilst his hands caress the sore muscles of the other’s back. Weston swallows, thinking back to other nights when he would stay awake until Asra had slept to his own fulfillment, and shyly mutters in admittance, "This _is_ a lot better.”

Asra smiles in his drowsy stupor, mumbling something back about how he’d get used to cuddling, before drifting fully into sleep. Asra’s peaceful expression along with steady heart and slow breaths is enough to make Weston relax, slowly following suit into a dreamy wonderland. 

Weston supposed he would, indeed, get used to cuddling.


	11. Savor It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio likes attention, he feeds off of it- especially if it’s mocking. Thankfully, they (the apprentice) know exactly how to make that happen. NSFW

A part of them always knew that things would end up this way. Ever since that sneaky remark he made in their direction, followed by that lingering gaze- and that was enough to just tip them off on his attraction to them. That, coupled with their general knowledge of opposites attract or something of the sort, had brought them right to this exact moment. And it’s so fucking empowering.

Lucio huffs, tearing his once obedient gaze away from the mage and towards his favorite portrait. They’ve learned that this is a telltale sign that- he was cornered. He’d always stared at it, as though to avoid their stare and fall further into whatever spell they had pulled on him. They could say or do anything in that moment and he’d gladly obey, although not without a little hissy-fit or two.

So, obviously, the moment he looks away from them- the magician took a firm grip of his chin and turned him back, staring directly into his reddened and widening eyes. His expression is still hardened, bull-headed, and _overflowing_ with confidence- but they can tell. His lip twitches, his gaze narrows, his breath gets softer, and those cheeks are _definitely_ a complimenting shade of pink. “Ohh dear Count- lovely, powerful, majestic, Lucio-” they start to coo, their grip on his jaw tightening and making him suck in a sharp breath. “Get on the fucking bed.”

It truly astounds them how quickly Lucio scrambles back and sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers tapping against the sheets and fidgety from their command. When they clear their throat, loud and firm, his attention snaps back toward them, that expression of unbridled excitement and _desire_ still evident on his face. And they know exactly what he wants.

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be a snarky little bitch about it though.

“C'mon and get over here. You KNOW I’m not a patient man-!” His mouth hangs open in clear glower, his throat bobbing as he refrains from saying something else.

They raise a brow. “Oh I am very well aware of that, which is why I like to take my time with you. I like to _savor_ it.” The magician lets the world linger a bit longer, and they watch as a tremble races through the Count’s body.

They take slow strides to him, stopping and dragging hand across his chest to admire the feathers of his cape before flicking the pendant holding it away and letting the garment drape down the bedside. Then comes his sash, adorned with even more pendants and charms that signify his greatness. They take the red fabric and tug it sharply until it, too, falls from his form. This movement is received differently, making a grumble that only slightly resembles a groan pull from deep in his chest. It feels like they’re stripping away his dignity, and it spurs him onward.

But he makes a mistake.

When their hand traces his exposed skin, Lucio grips them, hard, and snarls- “Get on with it!”

That was enough of an invitation. They slap his hand away and take a grip on his chin once more, this time digging in nails until they indent his skin. They shove him back, pinning him to the bed by the throat with a weak, strangled gasp. He doesn’t even retaliate, flailing beneath them briefly before going rigid, hands wrapped up in the folds of fabric. A wheeze tears through his throat when they squeeze, finally shutting him up from his self-absorbed stupor.

“You may be the Count of Vesuvia- but right here, right now, you **obey** me.” Their words strike a chord with him. Lucio sucks in weak breaths and nods in agreement. Just as tears trickle down the curve of his cheeks, their grip relents, and his chest rises in desperate inhalations. They grin back down at his desperate, needy, and pitiful expression. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

-

He loves walking out into the ballroom and feeling eyes travel to him. He has a presence that drew others to him, he looked amazing, he had power. That being said, as he walked back in to join the masquerade, clad in enamoring feathers and the finest of masks, the gaze that falls over him feels… different.

Lucio’s grin falters, but only slightly, and he busies himself with grabbing a glass of wine from the nearest servant. In the middle of the ballroom, Valerius has a sly grin whilst Vlastomil seems to be furiously defending himself over some strange fascination- as per usual. With fingers tapping rhythmically along the curve of his glance, Lucio strides over to them, built up once more with overly engorged confidence.

“Ahh and what have we caught wind of now? Something you want to admit to, Vlastomil?” He taunts casually before sipping his wine. His throat constricts once the two share an intensely intrigued stare at him.

Vlastomil glances around the room before responding, “Ahh funny you say that, Count! Of all people…”

What?

The Count’s cheeks feel warm in that moment, but he remains composed. He sneers, rolling his eyes at the strange insinuation that his Praetor gives. “And what _exactly_ are you suggesting, Vlastomil?” The venom in his voice brings Vlastomil to feel sheepish, shuffling in his spot with an awkward air.

Valerius doesn’t seem effected. In fact, he seems eager, itching to jump in. And he does. “Oh? You haven’t heard?” His tone is absolutely mocking and has a tone of humiliation that Lucio can’t place.

The air suddenly feels thick and way too warm. It feels like- he’s losing control. “Get **on** with it, Valerius!”

“Oh, so very sorry, Count Lucio. I just–” Valerius rolls his shoulders, holding up a hand in mock defense along with his wine. “Like to _savor_ these moments~”

_What?_

“Mmm, do you? Right _here?_ Right _now?_ ” Vlastomil cuts in with cheeky grin and sparkling glance. “You **obey** me?”

“Ooh, I’m glad we understand each other~”

Now he understood- and his _entire_ court was looking at them, mocking, condescending eyes past hooded masks. Lucio’s breath was gone, cheeks and ears burning fiery and unrelenting. His eyes were wide and owl-ish behind his own mask and his shoulders shook in trepidation.

He doesn’t know how they found out. He doesn’t know if they told- if they heard- if they saw-

What he did know though was that being outed like this, stared at and mocked at his own party, and absolutely humiliated was so- fucking- _arousing._


	12. You Can Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate take on the night that the Count was set aflame.

_“No! The Count- He-”_

_“There’s a fire in the Count’s room!”_

_“Someone do something!”_

Asra ran up staircases and through hallways, weaving through panicked party goers fleeing the smoking corridors as well as those too stunned to know what to do. He rounded one corner and saw it then- the flames spewing out from Lucio’s chambers. His council was only just then approaching, Valerius at the head of the group, concern and apprehension drawn on his face as they tried to get closer- to help. 

Just as he was about to jump in as well, a hand grabbed Asra’s wrist and pulled him back down the corridor. His surprised yelp was muffled by another hand, and his gaze drew up to the person- _them._

_Oh thank god._

They dragged him away, down different halls, past the dogs, past the servants, until they were successfully hidden by most prying eyes. Only then did they let Asra go, but he only jumped back into their embrace. “Oh god- oh god I was worried. The fire may spread, we have to help or do something-”

“No, shh, Asra-!” They hushed him fervently, trying to quiet down his worried words. Only now did he realize they were trembling, their eyes wide and expression pale. “Stay quiet…”

“What- what happened?” Asra’s voice grew quieter as he drew even closer to them. “Did you see? Do you know who-”

“No more questions.” Asra goes silent, although his concern just grew while the other magician moved to grab his hands and press soft, feather-like kisses along his knuckles. “I need to do something, I can’t tell you why- but it has to be done. I’m so sorry I have to leave you with questions…”

Before he can even ask what they mean, they pull out a small leather pack and shove it into his hands. It’s…

“The arcana- what- why are you-” While he stumbles over words, they take a bated breath and smooth their hands over their scalp. They close their eyes, pressing the flat of their palms just above their ears and tips of their middle fingers into the top of their skull. “Master- what are you-”

“I’m wiping my memory.”

Asra’s stomach drops. The arcana slips from his grip, spewing cards along the tile floor, but he can’t bring himself to care about it. He grabs their hands, pulling them back. “No, no no- no why- why? Master, Master you can’t- why?!”

They take shaky breaths, trying to remain composed but slowly failing. Instead, they hold his hands again, thumbs rubbing into his palms. “It’s okay, Asra. I have to. It has to be done. This is unavoidable. You’ll be okay…”

“NO!” Asra’s yell makes them jump, having to press their fingers against his lips to help him quiet once more. But he weeps, tears falling down his cheeks in streams. “No, no you can’t. You can’t do that- you can’t leave me. Please-”

They press their hands to his cheeks, holding him close. “I’m not leaving. I’ll still be here, just- you’ll… you’ll be okay, Asra.”

“I won’t-” his weeping continues, entire body shaking and grip falling to their shoulders, tightening in the fabric that lies there. “I won’t be okay. I won’t- I don’t know what to do. What do I do? Master, please-” Just like that, his words give in to blubbering sobs, quieted when he nuzzles into the crook of their neck. 

Their hands wind into his hair, holding him close, lingering right in that moment. “You will be okay, you will be,” they whisper surely. “You’ll figure it out, I’ll still be with you. I’ll be right here. You can do this, I believe in you.”

Their words of encouragement don’t do much other than hush his continual sobs. Once his throat has become less tightened, the only thing he can muster is a weak, pitiful, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Asra.” They pull away from him, hands moving down to wipe away the clinging tears on his cheeks. “And nothing, not even today, will change that. Remember that, please.” He nods, and they let go, hands lifting back to their position on their head. 

After a moment of held breath, they go limp, collapsing into Asra’s awaiting arms. Again, he sobs, a much quieter sound as he holds them… but he can’t stay here. He eases them against the wall for only a moment so he can pick up the arcana, stuffing the cards back in the deck unceremoniously with teary frustration. He can’t have this- it’s theirs. Realizing this, he takes a moment to fix the cards, making them perfectly stacked and in their place. 

The screaming continues, echoing in the halls, muffled by the crackles of fire from far away. _What do I do? Where do I go?_

_Home? Where was that? Not here._

He shuffles, wrapping his arms around their unconscious body and legs wobbling as he picks them up. He had to get home- he had to take them back- they had to get some rest, to get better- he had to be there for them. 

He could do this- right?


	13. Stuck in a Snowstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Julian get stuck in a snowstorm and have to huddle for warmth while you wait to be rescued.

Don’t worry, the woman on the phone said. The storm should settle in an hour, once it does we will send a dispatch car out. Conserve your gas and stay warm. 

Of course.

Julian leans over from the passenger seat and hits the button to turn on your hazard lights. With a look of realization, he shares with you, “I stored some blankets in the trunk- hold on-”

“Julian wait!” He doesn’t wait for your plead, already pushing the door open and kicking away chunks of snow before rounding the car. You feel the shift as he opens the trunk and quickly closes it. When he appears, puffing and trembling even with only a second out there, you’re quick to scold- “Julian, I could have gotten them myself!”

His smile fills you with a bit of extra warmth as he begins to unfold the blanket. “Well I don’t want you getting cold…”

You and him, within minutes, resolve that you can’t properly share a blanket over the cup holder and awkward seats. Julian is quick to suggest he pull you into his lap after shifting the seat back for more room. Honestly though- you don’t have the heart to deny that it would be best… plus with your shared body heat, it would be easier to conserve warmth. 

Slowly, you crawl over the cup holder and the gear shifts to accompany him in the passenger seat. It’s an awkward squeeze with you practically laying on top of him- but Julian has no complaints. He even holds you closer, pulling the blanket over top the both of you with much more ease this time. It’s made of wool and intricately knitted by the hand of Mazelinka herself. Hell, despite being in the trunk of your car for the last month or so, you can smell the scent of her candles that she makes at home. 

In this ditch, with the snowstorm at its peak, firm against Julian’s chest and with the familiar scent of Mazelinka’s house along and her plush throw blanket, you feel strangely comfortable. 

The radio’s static fades in and out with scattered pop songs and the annoying drone of some news caster telling how many inches of snow have fallen. You’re not paying attention to it- instead- much more calmed by the slow, heavy thrum of his heart beat. His chest rises and falls slowly with his breath coupled to similar tempo with his hand caressing your back in slow circles.

You don’t quite notice how easily the time dribbles away like water, seconds delving into minutes and, eventually, the drone of the radio making some sort of announcement of the storm slowing down. 

“Guess they’ll be coming soon…” Julian’s murmur rouses you from some dozing you had been in. He looks equally tired and just barely shivering from wherever the blanket didn’t reach him. You give him a questioning look at that, but he merely shrugs. “A little cold- I’m okay though.”

You don’t believe him. You shift a little closer, pulling the blanket up more to cover him properly, making you two even closer than before. You can catch the faintest of blushes on his cheeks. Despite for how long the two of you have dated, he’s still so adorable. Cheekily, you suggest, “Maybe we should kiss to conserve warmth~”

His blush remains, but his smile arches up wide and impressed. “You’re so right-” You knew he was close to another barrage of flirting, so you nudge up and capture his lips before he does, drawing out from him a gasp and then a following moan against your lips. 

It was safe to say you were kept very- very warm until the rescue trucks found you.


	14. Touch Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little teasing and prompting from you, you get to watch as Julian pleasures himself to your hungry gaze. (Genderneutral!apprentice)

You love the way his lip wobbles in feign need. Oh no, Julian is needy, but he really was working it up a bit. For a moment you indulge him, swaying up to him with eager swagger and reaching for the edge of his pants, playing with the hem in small, cute tugs. Julian makes a soft noise, stepping closer to you, and you test, “How much do you need me?”

“So much- you can feel for yourself if you’d like~” Julian’s lip tugs up, teeth gleaming a little, the utmost of sly and wanton. Perhaps he doesn’t expect you to take up the offer so quickly (or so outright), because he squeaks when your hand slips down and actually feel him up between the thighs. When he said he needed you he wasn’t lying, already half hard and pressed, strained against the confines of his pants. 

“I guess you’re right,” you agree in a taunting whisper just at the bob of his throat. The way your voice lilts makes Julian swallow eagerly and he shifts, gasping softly when you squeeze his length through his pants. “Lay down love.”

Your instruction is met with immediate obeying. Julian climbs into bed and is already untucking his shirt and working at the button of his pants. But you raise a finger, tell him to slow down, and he works to your specifications, very agonizingly slowly pushing his pants down inch by inch. His thumb manages to hook into his underwear and you watch, enthralled and bemused, as he moves even slower, down the arch of his hips, caressing over his thighs, all until his cock bobs back hard against his belly.

You don’t recall how pleased your expression was, but it must’ve been perfect since Julian bites his lip and looks at you bashfully as he finally kicks off his pants. He’s about to unbutton his shirt when you raise a hand for him to stop. “No need dear, it looks great on you like this.” Julian’s grin returns again as he extends a hand in invitation, gaze smoldering, licking his lips in anticipation of what you would do to him- but then you shake your head. “Not now love, I’ve got something else in mind.”

When you sit down at the chair beside his desk, he’s practically stunned. You cross your leg one over the other and press a palm to your chin, meeting his confused glance with a more intrigued one. “Touch yourself.”

“Touch myself–?” It seemed, for a moment, he wanted to laugh a little in response. He’d much rather touch you but that heavy lidded look you have makes him think otherwise. He nibbles into his lip again before finally moving, legs shifting open a little bit as he wraps a hand around his shaft and gets to work. 

He’s mesmerizing to watch. You can feel yourself get warmer under the collar as you take in his image, hips gently easing up into rhythm as he fucks into his own hand, drops of precum flowing over the head of his cock and down his fingers, his expression completely skewed with brows furrowed up and lips parted for soft pants. When he gasps out a plea, and then your name, it makes your loins tighten. 

Julian looks back at you from beneath heavy lashes. You watch as his cheeks color a deeper shade of red and the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He so easily opens up for your prying eyes, legs pushing open more to expose himself as you hoped and needed. The hand not working his cock comes in to join, cupping at his balls and squeezing in tandem. He catches sight of the pleased sigh you give, and it makes him work harder. 

He gives a loud, pleased groan and moves his hand faster, the slick drag of his skin audible even to you, sitting at the other side of the room. Scattered between his moans, he gives calls of your name, begging, cooing, saying all that would be on his mind at the moment. But then he makes you completely reel back as he whimpers, outright keening, and pleas like a tortured man, “Please- please can I cum?”

Man, would you like too see that. You hesitate in answering, unfolding your legs and finally occupying yourself with a hand between your thighs. Julian gasps at the sight of you finally touching yourself too, it seems to do him in, but he grips himself tighter waiting for your order…

“Go ahead-”

“Oh thank you-!” Julian suddenly lurches forward and fucks into his fist with desperation, the slick sound even louder, practically squelching as he viciously pumps himself and, within seconds, finally reaches his peak. It’s so satisfying to see him stall, eyes slipping shut, jaw dropping and thighs pulled taut whilst his cock throbs and spurts from the tip all over his fingers and the sheets. 

His breathing is still heavy as he relaxes, completely at the mercy of your hungry, lusty gaze. He was satisfied (or so you thought) but you had so much more in your system to burn off. Julian was in for a long night, especially with your ideas…


	15. Playing Footsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foot fetish in the tub with Julian, don't at me. (Genderneutral!apprentice)

You loved a little spoiling every now and then. You’re pleased with simpler things in life, and your version of being spoiled is being given free reign of Nadia’s bathhouse. Of course, you always drag Julian along with you because, while you’re okay with a little spoiling, he’s still positive he doesn’t deserve a luxury like that every now and again. 

Then again, the whole process of ‘dragging him along’ just consisted of comparing the bathhouse to the very tiny (much too tiny) bathtub you used at home. He’d always, on cue, cave then. Nowadays, the most Julian says is something akin to, “Are you sure Nadia doesn’t mind?”

Nadia seems to invite you more than you ask, and she always has a strange smile to her features when she does it. You figure that no, she doesn’t mind, otherwise she wouldn’t offer it. 

Julian never complains after he’s set foot into the steaming water, instead busying himself with sprinkling salts and oils to make it smell absolutely delectable. You watch him for a while as he moves, his hand drifting out to swirl and mix the soaps. You’ve not once seen him more relaxed, more himself than during times like these. He’s very go with the flow then, settling back in the water until it touches his shoulders before his attention is catching up again and he’s reaching for you instead. “Darling- come in~”

The warmth of the water has already made the bathhouse a bit hotter, so you barely notice the burn in your cheeks as you follow suit, dipping one foot- then the other, and then submerging up to your sternum. The beckon of his hands, open and ready to embrace, is difficult- no, impossible- to refuse. You sink into his hold and meet his puckered lips with a small smooch. Then, suddenly, there’s the scramble to overpower each other for the nearest rag and a tub of cleanly oils. 

Julian won with ease, long arms reaching over you to grab a rag before swiping the tub of oil you had just barely gotten your hands on. You pout a little and meet Julian’s laugh with a crossing of your arms. He chuckles sweetly back, dipping the rag into the tub of oil before nudging in closer and starting to wash over your shoulders. 

“Oh hush, I know you like it when I wash you. And I absolutely adore it myself…” You can see the faintest pinkening in his cheeks, and it makes your chest flutter a bit. Honestly, now, you don’t want to fight him on who gets to wash who, so you just sit back and let him get to work. 

You can’t really find a reason not to let him either. Julian seemed to genuinely love attending to you, washing every inch of your skin with the lathering oils and, in time, moving to massage through your scalp too. He’s tender yet thorough, making sure no part of you goes untouched, intimate and loving with every calloused finger tip he drags. It’s so thorough, so enthralling, that you’re practically falling asleep in the middle of your bath with him. 

The water has remained steamy by the time Julian’s hands were smoothing down your calves. His movements now more so resembled a soothing massage rather than actual washing, and you don’t mind it in the slightest. You still gently purr for him, leaning back and lifting the leg he was attending to more so as if inviting him to continue in his ministrations. 

Julian takes up the invitation earnestly, massaging the sculpted muscles of your calves with slow presses, relaxing the muscle further before moving down more. He’s tender, tentative with each movement as he holds your ankle, rubbing over the bone jutting out there before moving down even more and very, very gently begging at the sole of your feet. It takes you a moment to relax, entire frame taut and preparing for a tickling onslaught. While Julian wasn’t shy to surprise you with tickles from time to time, he seems to get the tenderness of this moment and refrains from even mistakenly doing it. You smile a little at the thought, wondering what his expression must look like, screwed up in concentration as he watches to make sure you aren’t uncomfortable. 

Wait, you can just open your eyes can’t you? You do, lazily poking one eye open to look down the length of your leg and seeing Julian perched in front of you. The sight is relieving. He’s not overly concentrating or looking embarrassed in the slightest. He’s still so perfectly relaxed, lids heavy with postponed sleep and swimming, warm, staring at your once sleepy visage with an expression you pin heavily to adoration. Have you ever seen a man so in love before?

“I love you.” You know he means it too. Julian’s thumbs pause for a moment, his smile tugging a bit wider as he leans in and presses a small, slow kiss to the ball of your big toe. Beyond your will, your frame lurches up, you gasp the slightest bit, and you pull back a little from his very lax grip. 

Julian’s dreamy gaze gets shocked to reality, his eyes widen, and he bites his lip from overwhelming nerves. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Oh it was, it must be, but not for you. You look down at him with a surprised glance, caught off guard to see him not uncomfortable but concerned for you. Did he cross a boundary here? No, certainly not, but what you wondered was if he was doing this because he knew you liked it- or did he like it too? You would never drive him into discomfort, you’d much rather die, but that look he gives makes you think that this arises anything but discomfort from him. 

Your pause has lingered too much, so when you answer, “No, it wasn’t,” you have to add- “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”  
It’s so easy to talk about this with him. He doesn’t laugh at you when you admit it. Instead, Julian’s smile returns, much softer this time, and he leans in. “I’m not uncomfortable at all darling, not in the slightest. I love it…” He says it like a promise and seals it with another much longer, much deeper kiss to your heel. 

So you slowly relax again, letting the lap of hot water lick just up to your collarbone as you allow your leg to get lifted, guided up into Julian’s firm palms while he kisses over your sole. He gives the sweetest, most pleased hums you’ve heard in your life, supremely satisfied seemingly to just kiss every inch of your foot from heel to toe. He wasn’t lying when he said he loved it. His hums grow louder, deeper, until you finally realize that it isn’t hums he’s making but moans. He’s moaning just from kissing your foot. 

And it’s hot as hell. 

Your legs part a little, the warmth in your belly finally becoming so hot that you can’t ignore it any longer. Your moving makes him pause briefly, eyes heavy and heated as he looks at you questioningly. You can only guess what you must look like then cause Julian simply grins and, with careful precision, gently bites down on a partial of skin. You feel yourself gasp, your noise hushed with a bite to your lip, and the coils in your loins curl tighter then. 

It’s uniquely erotic to hear the mixture of shy whimpers and moans mixed with the trickle and slosh of water when Julian moves in, holding your foot tighter in his grip as he moves in with fervor. His kisses repeat one after the other, trailing from heel to toe and lingering over each digit before, soon after, following the smooch with light flick of his tongue. 

Should you be disgusted? Something says yes but honestly- it felt so good. The slow squirm of his tongue there makes you squirm, makes your groin twitch in excitement, and by god you groan for him. Julian whimpers back, repeating the action and letting his tongue lav over the curve of your sole in a long stroke. His kisses are left soon after, short, butterfly motions up and down your foot like he’s praising your mere existence. The kisses end once more just short of your toes, leaving you trembling like a leaf, but of course he isn’t done. Julian hesitates for a moment, seemingly breathing to calm himself, before he takes your big toe into his mouth and sucks on it with a ludicrous moan. 

“Oh gods, Julian!” Your hand falls back, bracing against the lip of the tub as you’re suddenly unfurling and, before you know it, trying to thrust your hips in motion with the suckles of his mouth. His tongue swirls around the digit, moans muffled, and eyes once again slipped shut for a moment before noticing what you’re doing. Aching, you’re absolutely trembling and completely unhinged and aroused all from the praise he gives your feet. 

He knows just what you need. With one hand still braced on your calf, the other shoots forward and buries between your thighs, fondling you just as you needed him to. Your accompanying gasp and the buck of your hips sends him reeling too; it tells him everything he needs to know. 

When you fall back, pleased, Julian remains poised still kissing your foot and picking up a meek motion of massaging your overworked soles. Once you’ve relaxed you began to realize that Julian was more than honest when he tells you he loved treating you so specially. He nudges in to meet you, hands slipping up your sides and holding you close, expression only bashful when you glance down and notice his very strained cock just beneath his robe. 

Biting your lip, you offer sweetly, “Would you like a foot massage too, love?”

As stated before, the pleasant scents and the warmth of the water did things to him. It made Julian not want to refuse being taken care of, and that's truer now than ever. He gives a dopey, excited grin. “Always- all the running around has left me sore. And…” That grin falters, moving for him to bite down on his lip and cheeks, a vibrant red, flushing even more. “I’m more than eager to feel your hands on me.”


	16. Step At a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and the apprentice have a few drinks and fool around at home, featuring a belt wound around the wrists~ (With a trans male!apprentice)

“Alright one- two- th- Julian you can’t even- you’re not even trying!” He’s trying to be the one with his head on right, but it’s hard to do that when you’ve tucked more than a few salty bitters down your belt. Julian’s leaning heavily against him, arms wrapped around his waist from behind as his head tucks in at his shoulder practically leaving all of his weight on him. A gentle jab to his stomach makes Julian finally use his feet. “Now- steeeeep-”

Julian’s giggling, enjoying being a nuisance as he takes one step and then, once again, promptly collapses into the mage’s back and let’s him take all six feet of gangling limbs and torso. 

“Julian!” His chastising barely comes out as mad, equally as humored by his goofy, drunk self. It takes far longer than it should to get back to the shop all with the added excitement of stumbling off the path and practically dropping the damn doctor a few times. There was a fair amount of fumbling between hitting the shop door and actually opening it. 

When they shuffle inside, the mage is caught off guard to feel his weight lifted and, in a swift movement, he’s pinned against the shop door with lips at his throat. The mage stills, hands braced at the other’s shoulders and whimpers bubbling at the back of his throat. Julian’s lips start at his collar and move up quick and sloppily, just at his ear, and he whispers in a hot breath, “I’m so horny-”

“That’s— blunt—” He kisses him back, angling the doctor with a tug of his hair and pulling a deep groan from him. “But me too… upstairs…”

They stumble up the stairs, holding onto each other and trying not to get too distracted between the kisses and fumbling. Their collapsing in bed makes the mattress squeak and soon settle. They would make use of it’s noises though. But before that, Julian’s hands wandered, slipping beneath his partner’s shirt, tugging away his clothes as quickly as his fumbling hands would allow. Upon pulling his belt off, Julian coos, the cogs in his head turning with sly intent that the mage shivered at. 

“Ooh- maybe…” The mage’s hands are tugged up, ushered in position near the head board before Julian skillfully winds the belt around both wrists. It wasn’t near the realm of tight, barely wrapped enough to keep the man’s hands in place, but it did the trick. “Look at that~”

“Mmm feels good,” The mage purrs back, testing the bindings with a little tug of his arms. His noises soon turned from purring to outright moaning, getting louder and louder as Julian’s head ducks down, lips traveling over naked skin in sloppy, spit-accented kisses. 

He hesitates just above the hip, sucking down on a sensitive point of flesh until bruises bloomed. It makes the poor mage whimper louder, slurring on the tip of Julian’s name and then immediately gasping, arching his hips once Julian moves, pushing his legs open for his face to dig in. 

Oh boy does he dig in. Julian’s lips meet the mage’s, kissing open his labia before spearing a tongue in. He lazily thrusts his tongue, alternating between pushing in and pulling out to, instead, lap up and over his pulsing clit. The unfortunate mage suddenly regrets being bound since he can’t guide Julian’s mouth to hit better. He tries to arch his hips, to follow the lazy, uncalculated twist of the other’s tongue, but it doesn’t seem to unwind him too much. 

“Julian– please I need… need more!” Desperation is clear in his voice, and yet, Julian very lazily follows that plea. He takes his time, licking up the sparse mess he made before lifting his head and crawling up to meet the other, lethargy licking at his limbs and making him move slower than molasses. The mage was close to another pitiful plea, the start of it just as the tip of his tongue just as Julian’s hips meet his and, in a miraculous feet of dexterity, his pants were shoved down and the head of his cock instead pressing with eagerness. 

Both of them give equally relieved sighs as Julian finally becomes sheathed. His thrusts are uncoordinated and sloppy, but it’ll be enough and that is clear in the way that the mage’s loins begin to coil unfathomably tight. He tries to reach out, to grab onto him, but the belt works its wonders and keeps his wrists in place. So instead, he keens and bucks, his begging just loud enough to spur Julian onward. 

More– more–

Julian gave it, hands grounded at his partner’s sides and pulling him hard to meet each and every hard albeit miscalculated thrust. But it was enough. It took barely a few raucous movements to get both of them to peak, giving off soft, hushed moans between the slip of their lips meeting. 

They’re both hit suddenly then with a wall of weakness, both falling back in a tangle of limbs. After a moment to breathe, the mage moves. He wants to hold onto Julian and only then remembers that god damned belt. “Jul… belt-”

“Ooh-… ya-” It requires the most extensive fumbling so far, but Julian is pleased more to have arms wrapped around him than ever- so it is most definitely a win.


	17. Flesh Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlastomil, in wyrm form, is more enticing to Valdemar than most would have noticed. (Wrote this with Valdemar described as AFAB)

“Ahh well look at you. Did you not get your flesh suit yet?” Before the beast can say anything, Valdemar holds up a hand and shakes their head. “Never mind, I don’t care. It might be more fun this way anyway- oh-” They step in close, uncomfortably so that even the wyrm found difficult to ignore. Valdemar didn’t seem to notice or even care as they, instead of just looking, felt up the slime coated skin presented before them. “How many do you have?”

The creature chuckles, the sound grating on the nerves. “Four, that you can see…”

Valdemar raises a brow, surprised but not at the arms. “You have two tongues, too…”

“That you can see.” 

They seemed to be rather entranced by the thought. He’s not sure if they’d treat anyone like this, but him being a monster certainly helps in at least intriguing them. Perhaps that’s why they reached out to almost lovingly caress his cheeks, tugging his face down in close to get a better look at him. Then they do more, lulled deeper in until they’re meeting his wet lips in a firm, curious smooch. 

Vlastomil wouldn’t let such an opportunity slide. He picks it up, arching forward and catching Valdemar by surprise as he presses them back and, in the midst of their still lingering kiss, pries their mouth open with a twin pair of squirming tongues. Entranced, Valdemar falls back and allows themselves to be entranced into the creature’s hold. Their body seemed to go limp, strung about like a marionette for the wyrm beast to control, and for the most part they enjoyed it. They gave only the smallest of choked muffles between the two tongues, letting them slip in deep and drinking in the slimy saliva that accompanied them. 

The drag of clothes comes at a shocking pace, but neither of them care. Vlastomil explores every inch, crawling and grabbing as though claiming a new territory, and Valdemar accepts the movements, legs opening wider, willing to take in everything he has to offer. 

He certainly gave it. His hesitation lingers for only a few seconds, gawking at how wet they were, completely and utterly desiring him. A tentacle, once joined completely with the mass of his form, detached and started in curious descent. Its slick, nubile form spreads over their entrance, probing and poking to find out if it were suitable to be buried in. Every stroke it gives makes Valdemar shudder, limbs visibly trembling and pussy fluttering in need. Who was he to deny them with such a need anyway?

So it plunges in, the only resistance being the natural tightness of their muscles as the slick of their wetness and the slime of his tentacle help easily give way deep- deep into their aching insides. Valdemar’s noise is nothing less than erotic. Their back curls, limbs growing taut as they call out in pleased desperation. They’re already so tight against the one appendage inside of them, so much so that the wyrm hesitates in movement, all up until their hungry gaze flashes up with the slightest hint of annoyance. 

“What makes you think that will satisfy me?”

So he launches them back, makes them cry out as more tentacles descend upon them. A second one joins in stretching out their already tight cunt while one probes at their backside and, instead of letting a third fuck their mouth, he kisses them, tongues entwining with their own in an overpowering suffocation. The only protest he can hear is their surprised gasp, but even then, they swallowed his tongues and arched up to welcome the press of his second bulge. 

Vlastomil is only vaguely aware of the convulsions their limbs gives, legs hooking onto coils and hands grabbing at slime coated rolls as they’re pressured into orgasm after orgasm. They couldn’t even try to count them, only able to focus on breathing, on not completely shattering as they’re pumped into, fucked into, used to chase ecstasy. Valdemar was fine with it, honestly, completely fine with being fucked like doll. It felt good. 

But then they grow faster, pumping into them with vigorous pace, pressing harder and deeper to the point of pain- and not the good kind. They still welcomed it though, caving as tears prick at the corners of their eyes and dripped down, joining the rest of their fluids and the gush of his slime. The tentacles finally all still, lodging as deep as they can before releasing a torrent of translucent, sticky cum. Valdemar can only give a pained, muffled groan as the pain of being filled finally releases them of a final orgasm. 

Vlastomil gives a pleased, exhausted sigh into Valdemar’s mouth as he withdraws. The exiting of his tentacles was more than strange, and the disgusting sound of squelching accompanies the gush of cum that comes out of them.

He’s refreshingly surprised with how easily this creature gets to their feet, dusting themselves off of misplaced dirt and not even bothering to clean up before redressing once more. 

“You should really invest in a flesh suit. I’m sure that we can’t run the council if we all look like beasts now.” Valdemar’s advice is ended with a toothy, frightening grin- and for a moment, Vlastomil can place the glint of several more pairs of eyes winking at him from some estranged location in their form.


	18. Don't Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, it's the 'fade to black' scene with Asra. You are welcome~

“I love you.”

You can feel the thrum of magic from his palm as it presses to your chest, as though he’s infusing every bit of his being into you. You doubt there is any feeling more intimate than this. The realms tend to heighten yet delude the senses…

“I love you too.”

Asra’s expression softens further, and he relaxes against you in the sand. His palm remains rested at your chest, fearful of leaving, fearful of losing you- so his other hand moves, responding to a soundlessly plea and putting in the work to slowly peel your clothes from your form. 

The sand feels strange on naked skin. Like a mixture of silk and water, cool yet not unappealing. Goosebumps rise across your shoulders, and Asra leans in to kiss the prickled flesh. A whisper of your name warms your throat as he leaves behind kisses, his lips soft and in feather-like touches. You can hear the faintest repeat of the previous phrase. Perhaps that’s the only thing on his mind. 

Then again, that’s the only thing on your mind too. 

“Asra…” His name, and in that tone, is really the only thing you have to say. He leans back, straddling your hips with a slightly awkward sway as he continues to hold the spot where your heart sits. 

“I don’t want to let go.”

You understand him immediately. To spare him that pain, you move slowly, slipping his skirt down and away. His outfit is seemingly effortless to pull apart, the layers falling off like water. It didn’t seem to want to stay on his form anyway. When he’s completely bared, you catch sight of the brand on his chest flaring in white aura. You hope he isn’t forcing himself to do more than he needs to…

Asra sees your concerned expression, and his palms land at your cheeks, holding you gently. “It’s okay. I love you.” You believe him. His lips remind you of your time at the fountain, ethereal, soft and as though he could slip from your grasp- yet he’s very corporeal and very alive on top of you. 

He shuffles back to sit on the sand, taking in your image and committing your form to memory (as if he hasn’t already). “Are you comfortable?” You’re so quickly aware, then, of what you’re doing. Your toes dig into the sand, both cool yet warm, and the faintest lick of sea spray brushes against your calves. The waves could not reach you- this is the epitome of comfort. 

You nod- and he leans back in. 

The brush of his hair is followed by the slow drag of his lips, starting at your knee and moving up to give long, slow caresses up your thighs. His tongue lavs up your inner thighs whilst his hands hooked under, parting your legs, letting himself in. He mouths at your groin, licking up in broad strokes. He’s so incredibly warm, waves of energy flitting through you upon every twitch of his lips. You moan- and he stops. 

Asra meets you face to face, his pupils wide and eyes flooded in desire, a deep pool of adoration that you very easily get lost in. His palm feels incredibly warm over your chest again as he feels the deep thrum of your heart. The magic buzzes over your nerves; it gives a numb yet alighting feeling. His other hand holds your thigh guiding your hips down to meet his. The sand isn’t at all unpleasant, similar to a soft cacophony of blankets. 

His length presses against you. You gasp out, eyes rolling back when he prods, pressing in with little resistance. “As-ra! I love you-!”

“I love you too..!”

You welcome Asra completely into you, wrapping your arms around him and letting your nails dig into the tightly strained muscles of his shoulders. Only when he’s fully in you does his hand leave your chest, replacing it by letting your chests connect. His insignia feels hot against your sternum. Then- only then- you can feel the hard beat of his own heart, following yours along in matching tempo. For some reason, his heartbeat is what pushes you closer to the precipice of complete fulfillment. 

Time doesn’t flow right in the realms. You don’t know how long you’ve been there, how long Asra’s stayed tight against you, connected with you whole and complete. 

It feels both too quick yet so endless. 

And you don’t dare part from him afterwards, and Asra doesn’t seem to desire that either. This was the seal of complete devotion to one another. 

Asra looks at you, and whispers, “I love you.” You’ve never heard a more sure statement in your entire life. 

“I love you too.”


	19. Make Good on Your Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That fade to black scene with Julian tho~

“I will squirrel away every coin~” You know it’s a promise he’s going to keep with the way he exclaims it. Julian’s grin is wide, all encompassing of the joy he feels to just be relaxed and in your presence. You crawl into the bed with him, letting it sink with your weight. The intention was to flop beside him, to pull the covers up, and to feel that warmth as you slipped off into sleep. 

But it works a little differently than that. 

He ushers you up, playing with your fingers and giggling as you stare at him with a befuddled, quirked brow. You settle in against him, relaxed against his chest and snug until your hips meet his and then you can feel that oh yes- he was eager. 

“Sorry-” Julian’s voice croaks. His eyes flick to the side, occupied with the globe, but his cheeks and wobbly lip will not contain his pride. “That’s probably a bit inappropriate.”

Feeling him pressed so insistently against his trousers is more than just arousing. Something about him is so hyper real then, so focused and perfect under your fingertips that, despite being in a realm, despite being incorporeal, it’s closer than being in the real world. Maybe that’s the point. You relish then in pressing down, rolling your hips against the sizable bulge in his pants. It pulls from him a surprised and deep groan. His jaw drops whilst his eyes raise up to meet yours, swimming and thoughtful yet lost in a cacophony of desires- all focused on you. 

“Inappropriate yes- to entice your captain with such frivolous activities,” you manage to continue playing along from before, but your expression, just like his, won’t be able to keep this up. “Well, unless you can make good on your promises.”

With another twitch of your hips, Julian connects the dots. His hands, more firm, more intentful, hook onto your hips and drag you in closer, grinding your heat against his length with purpose. “I’ll make good on many promises, my dear.”

The beckon of his lips is overpowering and something you could never even dream of denying. You hold on tight, fingers curled into the thick curls at the base of his skull and craning, hungry and drinking him up for everything he’s worth. His own noises are desperate, carnal as he feeds from you with equal hunger. All while you kiss, two pairs of hands roam, tugging, hooking onto clothes that honestly have been a nuisance for far too long.

Barren, the contact of bare skin on bare skin as you lay completely on him is satisfying in ways you’d never imagine. You can feel the expansion of his ribcage as he breathes, your lips brush against his adam’s apple and it bobs as he swallows, and you can feel the clench of his stomach as he arches, hands guiding your hips and then-

The press of his cock is slow, not with fear but with that burn to let it linger. Your sharp breath in is filled with his scent, taking in all of Julian that you can possibly manage. You brace a hand against his chest, feeling up the broad muscle and his skin with specks of hair- it grounds you against him. He’s reality then, your life, your future, and if by the call of your name and the thump of his heart means anything- he sees you as the same thing. 

Death had made you a promise to have all the time you needed to rest and honestly you needed it. You felt as though, up until this exact moment, every single word and though and hope you had had between the two of you had practically floundered on awkward stumbles and half-baked confessions. 

It’s now that finally- you hear each other loud and clear. You’re both very very loud and clear. (Oh thank goodness Death was a heavy sleeper). Julian fills and completes you in the best ways possible, as you do for him, and now he’s as sure as you that together…

You can do anything together. You’re stronger together. Strong enough to face whatever tidal wave your ship may come across. 

Laying here then, underneath the covers, you listen to the sounds of water lapping against the hull and the flap of the sails in the wind. Julian’s lashes flutter as he wakes from his drowsy state- and he simply looks at you. His hair cascades over his cheeks, mussed and haphazard, and his smile is the calmest you’ve ever seen it. 

Yeah- he’s kept his promise.


	20. I'll Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A male apprentice tries to convince Valerius to stay as a part of the court, as it turns out, good sex is a good argument.

He’s watching for a long time, observing even, because this was so strange. Because dammit, Valerius stood, left his glass half full of wine on the table, and excused himself from the table, and was gone. Gone and without wine and it was concerning. 

The mage gave Nadia a curious glance midway through Vulgora’s conversing of the bordering countries, and she nodded back, giving a small wave of her hand before turning to the courtier to listen properly. So he gets up from his seat and follows quickly, on Valerius’ trail without him noticing it seemed. 

He had stopped at the balcony, leaning over it and looking over the gardens with a forlorn expression. The mage approaches in tender-footed steps, careful not to be too overwhelming to him. The Consul was so much more different than before- but still the same Valerius that he had met not too many weeks ago. They’re both silent for a time, basking in the awkward air between the two of them. 

“I’d like to ask you a question, and I would implore you to take it at face value-” Valerius suddenly speaks, straightening and adjusting his hands behind his back. The mage is silent as he looks back, taking in the bashful glance the Consul had. “Do you think I’m fit to be in the Court?”

-

Do you think I’m fit to be in the Court? How was a question like that supposed to be answered? He’s sure that Valerius has been there for years and a part of him has very likely based his personality and value into it. How does a man, after years of false actions and tarnished reputation, find value again anyway? The mage hadn’t answered him, tried to gently guide Valerius into taking a break instead, because honestly... he wasn’t sure what to say. Just a ‘yes’ wouldn’t work...

He was invited to stay the night at the palace with the excuse of further planning and contractions. The mage approached barely on the cusp of midnight with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. He tries not to stare too long when Valerius answers in only a knee length robe- was he just about to go to sleep? 

“A drink?”

“Only half a glass please-”

If there was anything that certainly remained the same, it was the difficulty in gauging exactly how Valerius was feeling. His expression read annoyed, but those bags under his eyes said it was a lack of self-awareness and confusion. Long nights spent wondering where to go from here and how to get there. The questions seemed to have plagued him since the moment his chains were broken. It was frightening really- to see Valerius thumbing at the lip of his glass instead of actually drinking from it. 

The mage only takes a sip. 

“I’m sorry- for not answering you before. It caught me off guard,” he explains awkwardly, looking away when Valerius stares at him expectantly. He can see the faintest twitch of the Consul’s lip, one of distaste probably. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want the answer to that question. It seems like... you’d much rather know if we want you in the court.”

“I advised you to take the question at face value-”

“Well I’m not going to do that.” At his sudden firmness, Valerius immediately snaps his attention away, grimacing whilst staring at some swirl in the carpet. In a boost of confidence, the mage leans forward and takes the Consul’s hand in his own. “Valerius- you faced your fears before, you can do it again.” He can hear the faintest, shakiest breath before Valerius finally shifts and moves to look him face to face.

“Do you?” He pipes up then, voice barely above a croak. “Does the Countess still require me- does she want me? Do I fit with the Courtiers? Do I even have a point or work to properly enact and-- and can I do it?” He stifles a sad laugh and murmurs lastly, “Do you want me?”

His grip seems to tighten on the mage’s hand, so much so that the mage reaches up with his other hand to hold onto him. “Of course. I know surely the Countess still requires you- I am positive that you still fit among the others and that your work continues on. And...” He swallows, that small bit of courage lingering just enough for him to lift the Consul’s hand and to kiss the curve of his knuckles. “I very much want you to stay.”

"Very much?”

“Very much.”

A certain thought flits between the two of them, one wondering if the other was much too inebriated to realize exactly what it is they’re doing, but a casual glance to the table where their glasses are set reveals that only a sip of wine was shared between the two. Only time would tell if either of them would blame it on the wine. For now, both sober, they indulged in getting drunk on one another instead. 

Past the point of a parted robe and shed clothes, the mage hesitates and has a thought in mind. Before Valerius can prompt further, he’s already left, scampering to the table and coming back with the half empty glass of rosé. “I was mad- for the longest time- about that time you spilled wine on me. Ruined my clothes. I thought it would be perfect to get my payback and ruin your day with an equally red wine. I never imagined it would uhh... well...” Turn out like this?

Valerius raises a brow. He looks almost offended then, just a moment from snapping at him, but in the next second he’s tucking his hair back and pushing the robe completely free from his shoulders. “Punishment is well deserved. Go ahead.”

What a sweet (literally) punishment it was to finally pour a whole glassful of wine on him, to see him shudder as the liquid drips down his skin, some pooling in his navel and rivulets trickling down his sides. But the better part of punishment was to reap the rewards of it, to very literally drink up its contents, to feel the tremble of muscles under his tongue as Valerius shifts and moans, and to feel his body lock up as he’s fucked into. 

The sweet sting of alcohol taints their kiss just perfectly, mixed together as their tongues twine. In the breath that they part to take, Valerius gasps. “Faster- there- more-!”

The mage can’t help but obey, grabbing at now slick with wine hips and maneuvering him just right to thrust into him properly. It’s amazing how easy it is to get him to crumple, with only a few more deep jerks along with him pandering a hand down to touch himself- and he’s gone. The mage follows him suit, immediately collapsing on top of him with a heavy sigh. 

“Alright...” Valerius breaths out in a pant. “I’ll stay.”


	21. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A combination of petplay and buttstuff, what more could you ask for?

“How do you like it?”

“Oh I like it a lot.” Julian tilts his head, baring his neck for a moment before lifting a hand and batting at the bell that hung from his throat by a leather strap. His grin widens as it chimes a few times. “Look at that, now I can announce myself even louder when I enter the room!” 

His chuckle dies the moment his partner pulls the lead, making it very clear that they intend on using this to their full extent. He gives a tight lipped smile, trying to stave off his blush as they continue to eye him up with dangerous intrigue. He felt like prey (but that roleplay was for next week Thursday) that was just about ready to be devoured. Oh but they would take their time…

They curl their finger at him and, when he tries to stand, they tsk. Their motion repeats and, as he realizes what they want, Julian swallows and blushes even more fiercely. He follows their order properly, shifting onto his knees and shuffling in close on all fours. The little bell hung on his collar gives a little ring with every shift he makes. Julian, now at their knee, sits obediently and waits for their next order.

They are slow though, methodical, and keep one hand tight on the lead while the other moves in to cup Julian’s jaw, gently scratching him there. Julian swallows and moans in the back of his throat, letting it get louder when they speak, “Who’s my good boy?”

“M-Me,” they watch, fascinated, as his blush crawls down his cheeks to his throat and even going lower to his naked chest. “I’m your good boy.”

They grin, genuine and uniquely kind in that moment. “That’s right, you are.” Julian’s happy sigh at their confirmation is oddly pleasing. They move, unhooking one leg from the other before pressing their foot between Julian’s thighs and even further, pressing down on the very hard indent in his trousers. As quickly as he had sighed in happiness, he had much more willingly groaned in agony as though reminded that yes… he needed more. 

There’s a lingering wait then. They’re still for him, foot braced and inviting him to move closer with a grateful tug on his leash. Julian groans softly as he gives in, pressing closer until he’s straddling their leg and slowly humping them just like a good boy should. 

They coo softly to him as he pleasures himself, letting him give into carnal urges that he seemed to adore letting control him. But they don’t want him to cum just from a little heavy petting. Once his groans grow uncontrollable, they tug his leash gently and announce, “Down boy.”

They’re impressed when he immediately backs off, shuffling a few inches away so they are no longer touching. He’s so much more flustered though, entire chest covered in his blush and heaving, panting like a worn dog as he holds himself back. When they look down further they can see just the smallest of damp spots on his trousers- how adorable. “On the bed.”

Their order, this time, makes Julian’s breath actually hitch and hesitate for a split second before scrambling, laying back in bed with legs opened wide in invitation. They approached slowly, throwing the leash to let it dangle beside him before raising a brow and adding, “All fours.” His obedience is one to behold, admirable even as he apologizes profusely and wiggles into position, head bowed and back arched for them. It’s easy to throw him around and to surprise him at the same time. He’s malleable in their grip, letting them pull down his pants and his underwear in one firm tug and only shivering as they cup his ass. 

His beautiful, toned ass. It’s easy to tell that he runs around all the time since the muscles are so perfectly sculpted. They give in and simply squeeze him, parting his cheeks and taking in the pleased whimpers he makes for them. With his head bowed in obedience, Julian doesn’t take notice of them leaning for the tub of lube and dipping their fingers in. He would only know what they’d done when they lean back in and, with one hand on one cheek, they’d spread him open and massage the slick over his tight hole. 

The way he sucks in his breath is delightfully sharp. They watch him closely as they slowly massage over his puckered entrance, the one hand remaining poised on his ass while the other travels, tracing up his ribs before trailing down his spine again, nails gently dragging and leaving their marks in little white lines. Julian jerks forward, gasping and ringing from the bell on his neck as their fingers pause and very slowly push in. He’s still so supple, delectable like a freshly picked fruit that they need to indulge in and devour. 

Their fingers shoved in, down to the knuckle, and it’s so hard that his resounding groan is both from pain and pleasure- and they can tell he loves it. With two fingers lodged deep in him, their other hand moves to busy itself, twining again with the leash and taking it in a firm hold and tugging it. Julian gags a little, choking as the collar is pulled taut over his wind pipe and eyes rolling back a little as he swims in the pleasure. 

Before he can even wiggle and complain, they curl their fingers right into his prostate and press into it in firm, plentiful circles. They don’t tease him anymore and yank on the leash in intervals, letting him breathe between the deprivation. The way Julian squeezes around their fingers is proof enough that he loves it and needs more. He rocks back into their fingers, alternating between getting them deeper and tugging back on the leash to choke himself more. But then they finally move, pulling their fingers out and, along with a third one, pushing in all the way to the knuckle in a firm stroke- and he crumbles.

Julian’s sob is choked when he cums. He trembles like a leaf in the autumn wind, thighs clenching and unclenching and entire frame quaking with the reverberation in his chest. Their fingers stop inside of him, braced against his prostate and just letting him squeeze around their digits. When they look down they notice then the puddle of cum gathered on the sheets from where he’s released himself, still dripping a little from the tip of his cock. 

And like the good boy he is, Julian is sure to reciprocate the moment he’s gotten his breath.


	22. Itchy Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Vampire Julian with the Reader, and it gets a little saucy~

It’s fun to straddle him at any time, but even now it’s more perfect. It isn’t as though he hadn’t eaten in a while, he makes sure to have a glass every day in the morning or before bed, but he’s been putting it off…

Putting it off out of fear, out of strangeness, he had a lot of reason to. Julian didn’t want to hurt you and, despite the books and despite the rumors of it being pleasurable, he was fearful of what he might do to you. But he can’t avoid you now and a part of him didn’t want to either. 

“Please wait- what if I-”

You press two fingers to his lips, barely grazing over the point of one fang. Just that motion alone makes a shiver race down his spine. “You won’t hurt me. You aren’t a monster. It’ll… feel nice,” You’re positive in what you say and it’s reflected in the relaxation of Julian’s shoulders. He wouldn’t ever hurt you, purposeful or accidental. 

And it’ll feel nice…

He opens his mouth a little and pokes a tongue out to trace his lips. You watch, enticed, as he just licks his lips and takes in the softest breath, looking to you for guidance. So you give it to him and press the pad of your thumb to his tongue, stopping him in his tracks. “Julian, bite me.” And the heavy breath he gives back, hot against your palm, makes you pound in your gut. 

Julian nestles in, kisses the base of your palm, and sighs in a sultry tone. He’s never felt warmer to you, and you’re living on it. His kisses are slow, tracing the veins of your wrist, feeling your pulse as its thrums begins to rise in frequency... then he stops. He sucks down and lavs his tongue over your skin so that the graze of sharp, dagger-like teeth doesn’t frighten you as much. Instead, it makes you shiver in need. Then he presses in. 

It’s not like any sort of cut or wound you’ve ever received. There’s a boiling pressure where his fangs puncture your flesh and his tongue feels like lava as it begins lapping up the blood you give up. Along your other limbs and across your cheeks feels uniquely cold as he gulps you down. It’s so cold that it makes your skin prickle in goosebumps and warmth blossom in your stomach. The heat that pools there is all consuming and makes you want to give in. 

Just like that, the feeling is gone. Julian is lifting his head and gasping, taking the biggest gulps of breath as though he’d been drowning. Your blood stains his teeth and the rim of his lips like some sugary syrup and, strangely, you find yourself wanting a taste. He wants to ask you how you’re feeling, are you alright- was that too much, but you’re quicker with what you want. Your kiss is smothering and consuming just like the heat between your legs. You’re feeling bold, and you’re in need and it’s clear as you take one of his hands and guide it between your thighs, wanting him to feel how much his hunger made you hunger. 

His eyes widen at your intention and just as quickly melts into a sultry, needy expression. It’s downright inhuman how quickly he moves, shedding you of your clothes and shedding his own in grabbing, pawing motions. Your lusting for him fuels you with equal tenacity, and you practically hop on his dick the moment you see it. His loud, heady grunts and groans are rendered almost completely silent as you kiss him, tasting him and your blood in one dark drink. 

Your name is heavy on his lips, moaned and whimpered over and over in mock prayer as he rocks up into you, positioning your hips to ride him, to take him as deep as you can. You need him- and you need more. So you grab onto his hair, massaging into his scalp until he purrs, and press his nose to your collar. 

This time though, he doesn’t need extra direction. Julian kisses your throat, over the column of your esophagus, and then licks up the side of your neck before bracing and sinking his fangs in once more. The tingles and warmth once focused on your wrist now floods you. You can’t help the moan you give and tilt your head back in welcome greeting to this flooding warmth. He’s messier this time, your fluids dripping down your throat and chest in tiny rivulets that he never managed to drink up. Julian ruts harder, faster in you as he sucks harder. You follow the jerks of his hands as they guide your hips, just as eager, just as close, just as needy. 

Your orgasm flushes through you completely, everything highlighted from just being devoured. It’s as though chilled frost and boiling water are flooding through you, lighting up your every nerve to perfection until you can barely move, every bit of energy sapped to depletion. You’re left in Julian’s arms, the warmth on your chest slowly drying and with him very slowly relaxing further into you. He’s panting against your throat, seemingly coming down from his own glorious high, and as feeling comes back to your limbs- you move to hold him in turn. 

You loved him so much- but those bites would certainly itch in the morning.


	23. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tender love making after a long journey between Asra and a male apprentice~

Seeing Asra collapse into bed and sigh as he nestles into the pillows and messed up blankets makes him remember how nice it is to return home after a long vacation. Vacation? No it was a journey if anything- their first journey after years of tense dormancy. It was freeing in a way he never could have described. They traveled to Nopal- they traveled further- they hiked mountains and explored forests and set up camp within the trees. They swam in a lake, skinny dipped in a slow moving river, picked berries and warmed by the fire.

But being home was nice too. 

The magic air was a welcome breath and so was the sight of Asra splayed open on the sheets. Asra looked heavenly, completely in bliss with just laying down and messing the blankets up even more. After a moment, he shifts and opens his eyes, looking back at the other mage with a dreamy daze. He holds out a hand, trying to beckon him close, and he can’t find a reason why not to. The other mage finally collapses into bed with him, creating a greeting of welcoming, tired laughter.

It’s hard to pick out an exact moment where it grows heavier and tinted with lust. They’re both too engrossed in hugging one another and sharing slow, misplaced kisses to really care about… where it goes. 

And where it goes is exactly where you’d expect, with Asra panting, grabbing his apprentice’s shoulders as he arches up to grind their hips together. He can feel how aroused Asra had become with every careful stroke that their hips made. He indulges a bit, humping forward until Asra begins to squirm and grunt with need. 

It was as though magic was on their side as their clothes slipped away with ease, falling off the side of the bed in casual tosses until both of them were freed of such fabric confines. To feel the soft on their tired, weary bodies is a heavenly relief they both missed. This revelation was shared in a soft, quiet sigh that was soon swallowed up with Asra’s beckon, with him kissing the other mage with a few lazy licks to make it sweeter. It’s already achingly sweet as evident by the tight, aching muscles between them. 

He leans up for a moment, disconnecting from Asra just enough to reach out to the drawer next to the bed and dig through it. He finds what he needs quickly, a tub of lube and makes good work of it, and it feels amazing to have Asra squeezing around his fingers. Like velvet, is what he’d compare it to, smooth muscles tightening and constrained around his digits to be slowly worn open all while Asra mewls, fingers dug into his shoulders and head hung back into the pillows, soft hair splayed along the fabric like a halo. 

Pressing into him is slow and more than perfect with the way he holds onto him and gasps, keens out into the silent, buzzing air. Where Asra’s fingers graze at his shoulders it leaves a warmth behind like pleasant candle wax. His lips feel perfect too, soft, slick with spit and melded together beautifully. Asra is so instinctively beautiful...

The weight of Asra’s legs wrapped around his hips brings a pleasant pressure to push in deeper, to thrust faster, and why shouldn’t he follow such a desire? He damn well chases it, lips firm at Asra’s throat and palms clasped tight around his ribcage. 

At some point, those kisses along the throat travel up again and get lost in another sloppy, breathless kiss. A whisper of each other’s names passes between their lips and then a gasp- and then Asra unravels right then and there. 

It’s this moment right after that he loves the most, with Asra’s muscles trembling and slowly relaxing while his digits clench and his limbs oh so tenderly ease in their embrace. That’s what pushes him over the edge too, spilling into him with a muffled grunt and immediately collapsing into him. 

Limbs once weak with endorphins move again, grabbing onto each other and simply holding one another. It feels so good to be home.


	24. Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little hanky panky with Eldritch-Valdemar? With reader~

“I can help you- if you just let me closer…” you whisper. The creature- no- they tremble in front of you. This isn’t just some thing, this was still Valdemar, and you know it. No matter how inhuman the cries or the strain their sight gave you, this was still them. 

They remained hunched over and giving ridiculous, gnawing sounds. Something like the snap of bones comes from them along with deep, heavy panting and the occasional growl. It’s difficult to look at them. You can see a mass of darkness but around it is faded, like a fog, and the only thing past it you can manage to identify are clusters of eyes and lumps of charred flesh. But they remain still, only breathing, so you step closer. 

Just in front of them, you can barely see the indents of dark red links as they press burning hot scorches into their flesh. They’re piled on top of one another, chain after chain, and you wonder if you really have the strength to undo them from it. You have to try though. Do it for them. 

So you reach out slowly and wrap a hand around one of the many chains. They screech (in agony?) and reel back, pulling you with them as your hold remains firm. You can feel them at least, their muscles and limbs as they twitch from the pain, and you can barely see the pained look in their eyes that flutter and water pitifully. 

They’re still them, and you still hold them because you know they need it. “It’s okay- you’re okay-” You whisper soft, beckoning, and then you feel the strangest thing. It’s like… a kiss. 

It’s a soft almost breath of a movement, but you can feel it just at your cheek and you reach for it. You hold onto Valdemar with all your might, and you kiss them back. It’s like kissing the grave, cold and almost nothingness, and the only thing that tells you you’ve kissed them is the shiver of cold that runs down your spine. Everywhere they touch you insights a cold chill that rocks you to your very core, and their touch, uniquely exploration, maps you entirely. 

Feels you entirely and overrides you just like the cold always does. The only warmth you find solace in is the chains they’re bound up in, and even then it’s unpleasant- it’s painful. As if knowing your struggle, you feel another deep chill, another kiss. 

It helps a little bit. It feels good. 

Their eyes flutter in recognition. Their movements are slow and methodical, kisses landing at your lips as they continue to push in, thrust in. Several limbs hold you gently as they fuck you closer and closer to your precipice. Valdemar gives the softest of growls as they, too seem to begin unwinding. Although, from what you can tell, the chains aren’t helping as they just keep them bound up, even tightening the more they move. 

Your fingers finally clasp again at them now invigorated, finding strength in their welcoming hold. They aren’t so painful anymore.

When you finally crumble, so do they. The cold is encapsulating and hungry, drinking everything you have to offer and more. You can see their multitude of eyes flutter and close in intervals- only to widen when you grab the chains tighter and pull. 

And they snap. 

As simple as pulling twine. 

You’re left then with only the unconscious, proper form of Valdemar in your arms. You can only hope that they wake up well and intact from there.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a prompt or request? Leave a comment or shoot me a message at my tumblr: tcohs-messenger!


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